Nicole Qualley

Nicole Qualley.

'Ugh! Gym sucks!' Nicole Qualley thought as she put what she could in her locker and escaped the confining walls of her school--Sommerville House, an all-girls private college in Brisbane's South Brisbane district.

Attending an all-girls school was bad enough, but having to walk past a Catholic all-boys school to catch her train home? The pits! The relentless teasing and innuendo she and the others who also caught a train had to endure daily as they walked past St Laurence's College was beyond the pale.

One day, one of the morons that school called 'young gentleman' tried to accost her. Well, Nicole was having none of that!

"Out of the way, limp dick," she snarled as he placed himself in front of her.

Surprised by Nicole's vehemence, the boy backed up two paces before the heckling from his 'roomies' caused him to react angrily.

"Who are you to talk to me like that, you fuck ugly dyke?" The boy snapped.

"Perfect, limp dick," Nicole responded. "Challenge your masculinity, and you immediately resort to playing the lesbian card. Listen, dickhead, just because I have no interest in your tiny wiener doesn't mean I'm a lesbian. It's just that I prefer dicks that are attached to real men, not some egotistical jock itch with no brain. Now, out of the way, I have a train to catch."

"You look like that actress Margaret Qualley," 'limp dick' stated. "Everyone knows that she's a dyke."

Surprisingly, Nicole shares Margaret's surname, although 'limp dick' couldn't have known that. A Google search failed to find any known family relation to the American actress or her more famous mother, Andie MacDowell.

"Yeah," Nicole said sarcastically. "That's why she's married to a bloke."

"Are you boys hassling this young lady?" A deep male voice asked, breaking into the confrontation. Nicole turned to see her gym teacher, Mister Cummins.

"No, Sir," 'limp dick' and the others quickly denied.

"Then why are you standing in front of the woman blocking her path?" Mister Cummins asked.

"We were just talking to her, Sir," 'limp dick' protested.

"Have you any idea how long I've been watching?" Mister Cummins enquired.

"No, sir," 'limp dick' replied.

"I thought not," Mister Cummins disgustedly added. "I'll have your names, and believe me when I say I'll be talking to my counterpart at this school. Now, hand your school IDs over." Mr Cummins stood with his hand out, waiting for the boys to hand them over.

The four young men reluctantly handed their cards to the teacher, who put them on the low wall around the school, took his phone out and photographed them. "Now, walk away," Mr Cummins commanded. "I do not care in which direction you walk away as long as it is not in the same direction as the young lady."

Muttering, the four boys wandered off, glaring back at Nicole. Nicole hefted her school bag and made to walk off.

"Excuse me, Miss Qualley?" the young teacher called Mister Cummins said. Nicole turned to face him. "You're catching the train?" He asked.

Nicole nodded, but when he raised an eyebrow, she explained. "I don't like travelling home in a sweaty sports uniform, so I showered and changed before walking to catch my train."

"If you're doing that, aren't you supposed to change into your regular uniform for the trip home?" Mister Cummins asked.

Technically, the teacher was correct. School policy dictated that she was supposed to remain in uniform from the moment she exited her front door until she returned. However, Nicole had exactly one uniform to go with her sports one. Wearing it to class, if she had gym that day, was permissible, as was wearing it home. But if she wanted to shower and change after her class, she was supposed to put on her regular uniform.

Nicole's parents struggled to make ends meet. They'd sacrificed almost everything they had to send their vivacious, intimidatingly intelligent only child to a private school, hoping to give her the best chance to succeed in her goal of becoming a Supreme Court Judge. Nicole had one uniform because that was all her parents could afford. She wore it Monday and Tuesday, put it in the wash Tuesday night, wore her sports uniform to school on Wednesday, and then wore her only uniform for the last two school days.

Nicole wondered how much trouble she was in before the teacher kindly smiled and said, "I don't think those boys will circle around and cause you any more trouble, but if you prefer to be safe, wait with me in the staffroom, and I'll pick up what I need to take home and escort you to the station.

Nicole examined her rescuer --Middish height, around 178 cm (5ft. 10), she guessed. Slender with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Nicole estimated the teacher would weigh around 70 Kg (154 lbs). Piercing, bright blue eyes under a pronounced brow and heavy jet-black hair spikily cut and left tousled. Full lips over an already dark 'five o'clock shadow, even though it was only a little after three p.m. He wore the expected sweatpants and a clinging black T-shirt with The Sommerville House's logo emblazoned over his heart. Mister Cummins was a favourite amongst the more forward of the girls.

Nicole thought through what she knew of the gym teacher. Head of department, she suddenly remembered. Known to be witty and charming, a stern disciplinarian, but also known to laugh and joke with his students. Looking up, Nicole met the teacher's eyes and jumped when she realised he was grinning laconically at her inspection.

"Would you prefer to wait with me, Miss?" Mister Cummins asked.

"My name is Nicole Qualley," Nicole answered. "I do not like to be called anything other than Nicole, and yes, I prefer to wait."

The teacher smiled, and with his eyes sparkling with laughter, he held out his right hand, "Nick Cummins, Miss Nicole," he said. "Pleased to make your acquaintance. My name is Nicholas, but I prefer Nick. This way, if you will?"

Nicole, surprised by her sudden acceptance of an escort, meekly followed the teacher back to Sommerville House. Realising the young woman was shy and uncertain, Nick made small talk, hoping to reassure his new acquaintance that everything was okay. He explained that he'd jumped a year during state school, had sat for his Uni entrance exams a year early, and compressed his double degree, BSc. Math and a B.Ed. Secondary from four years to three.

"How old are you?" Nicole bluntly asked, thinking he was still way too young to be a head sports coach.

Nick grinned and said, "You first, Miss Nicole."

"I turned eighteen last week," Nicole admitted. "I'm a high school senior, as you know, and regardless of the end-of-year exams, as long as I pass, I'll finish high school with straight As."

"Your parents wouldn't allow you to jump a grade?" Nick asked.

"They thought it would be detrimental to my socialisation skills," Nicole explained. "So instead, I sat bored through the last five school years."

"Almost done now, though," Nick sympathetically said as he opened the staffroom door and allowed Nicole to enter first. He swiftly gathered the papers he needed to mark and review into his satchel and swung it over his shoulder. "Let's get out of here," he suggested. "Before another set of ill-mannered louts cause me to use my authority to chastise them."

"You didn't tell me how old you are," Nicole protested as she walked through the held open door.

"No, I didn't," Nick chuckled as he surreptitiously admired the tight, round bottom passing through his door.

"So, Mister Cummins," Nicole pretended to say exasperatedly, "How old are you?" As she asked, Nicole wondered why it mattered. On her list of what she desired in a man, Nick was 1) Older than her, 2) Worldly, 3) As intelligent, if not more intelligent than her, and 4) Handsome.

There was another closely guarded requirement --5) Experienced. Nicole was a virgin and sure did not want to experience what some of her friends had -- a clumsy, awkward, painful first experience. Instead, she wanted her first to be an experienced, older lover who would take her journeying on a sexual adventure.

Nicole held a deeper need, one she only admitted to herself when she gave herself personal, intimate attention --she wanted her man to be dominant. He should be confident enough to demand what he wanted from his lover and then show her how to do it. Nicole thought that Nick just might be that guy.

As the couple walked towards the nearby Southbank station, Nick refused to answer. Instead, he asked intelligent, insightful questions about Nicole's schooling, her experiences at school, how she managed such good grades (four+ hours per night of study), and what she hoped to achieve in her life.

In turn, Nicole asked why, given Nick was so intelligent, he had 'settled' on being a teacher. Surely, with that much intelligence, he could have been a doctor, lawyer, or anything. Nick laughed and pointed out that, as Nicole does, he despaired at how little he was taught and the sparsity of knowledge he gained. That was when he decided the only way to change the system was from the inside.

"We're not challenging today's students, Nicole," he explained. "We're allowing mediocrity to rule. We're so tied up on ensuring equality for everyone that we're punishing anyone ahead of the curve. We don't laud intelligence any more. Instead, we insult and belittle it and try to drag it down to the mean. That's wrong! Where will the next Steve Jobs come from? What educational institution will nurture the next Spielberg? It needs to change. Mahatma Gandhi said, 'Be the change you wish to see in the world'. Well, I'm trying to be that change."

"Don Quixote comes to mind," Nicole riposted.

Surprised, Nick asked, "You've read the book?"

Nicole nodded, "That one, plus Stranger in a Strange Land, 1984, Animal Farm, Brave New World, The Odyssey, and To Kill a Mocking Bird."

"All required reading for your English classes?" Nick queried, knowing they weren't but amazed that a modern student had read so extensively of the classics.

"Only To Kill a Mocking Bird," Nicole clarified. "The rest I read because I wanted to."

"Why did you want to?" Nick asked as he and Nicole walked to where the Cleveland train would pull up.

"If I'm going to be a Supreme Court judge, I need the education and ability to put together a lot of brilliant briefs that become law. To write those, I've studied the classics so my prose will read and sound meaningful."

Awed, Nick responded, "Good thinking and planning, Nicole." Then he looked about. "What train are you catching?"

"The Cleveland line as far as Lindum. My pushbike is chained there, and I'll ride that to Tingalpa, where I live."

"Do you mind if I ride with you?" Nick asked. "I'm going to Ormiston."

"It's a free country," Nicole teased as she placed her 'Gocard' against the automatic scanner, glad their conversation could continue.

With the delay, Nicole had missed her usual train and would be home at least thirty minutes late. Not that it mattered. Her parents had jobs, and she was an only child. Her parents wouldn't make it home until close to six. She'd have dinner ready for everyone by then. The train Nick typically took pulled in fifteen minutes later, and they got on board.

Nick and Nicole chatted amiably together for the first part of the journey. But when the train stopped at Coorparoo, an old friend from Nicole's state school got on. The girls squealed when they saw each other and were soon chatting about what they'd been up to since they last spoke. Nick didn't mind because it gave him time to study the breathtaking young woman who had so suddenly swirled into his life.

'The boy Nicole called 'limp dick' is right,' Nick thought. 'She does have a startling resemblance to Andie MacDowell's daughter, Margaret. She's significantly shorter, though,' he realised. Using his mother as a guide, Nick estimated Nicole to be no more than 157 cm (5ft. 2) tall. He guessed her weight was less than 46 kg (102 lbs). Nicole's 32B breasts were more prominent than her counterpart's and looked big on her slender chest. However, Nicole has the same lustrous light-brown hair and blue eyes as Margaret. Plus, Nicole and Margaret share similar mouths, noses and bright white teeth. 'Yes,' Nick added to his musings. 'Definitely very similar looking to Margaret Qualley.'

Nick felt his dick shift and lengthen as he watched his new, young friend. Initiating an affair with a high school student when you are a teacher is fraught with danger, especially when they were a pupil at your school. That was true even when that student was eighteen. However, Nick hadn't felt as attracted to a woman as he felt toward Nicole since his university days. He hoped Nicole's friend got off the train soon so he had more time to chat with Nicole.

His wish was granted at Murarrie station. Unfortunately, that left only the seldom-used Doboy station and Hemmant before the train pulled into Lindum, where Nicole would depart. Nick racked his brain, trying to think of a subject to restart their conversation. However, as was often the case in this situation, all his mind could produce was banalities about the weather or school.

But, before he could speak, Nicole turned towards him, her incongruously long legs lifting before she rested her feet on the seat across from her. "So, Gym Teacher Nick," she teased as her eyes sought his. "You still haven't told me how old you are."

"No, I haven't," Nick confirmed before asking Nicole what she did for fun. He casually placed his hand on Nicole's outer thigh, well below her dress' hem. Nicole felt her heart jump and arousal flare, but she glared at him and forcefully pushed his hand off her thigh. Nick pretended nothing had happened and intently listened as Nicole described her passion, women's softball. How she'd watched highlights of Australia's medal-winning games at several Olympics and hoped to emulate those women and help her country win further medals.

Nicole said nothing about Nick putting his hand on her leg, but her arousal continued to grow as she remembered the thrill that raced through her body at his touch. Nicole didn't know what she wanted. But she knew he wanted Nick to be more manly, to act more dominantly. Of course, she'd resist, rebuffing his advances, and if he were like the other boys Nicole had allowed to get this close, he'd give up, mutter about her being a dyke and storm off. Nicole hoped Nick wouldn't give up.

However, before either could do anything about their burgeoning desire for each other, the conductor announced Lindum station, and Nicole disembarked, her thigh remembering Nick's caress. Just before the door closed, Nick said, "Nicole?" She looked at him. "Twenty-seven," he added as the doors closed.

Taking off the chains that held her bike to the rack, Nicole rode home in a dream. As she rode, the bicycle's seat pressed maddeningly against her untainted entrance, and images of the young principal formed unbidden in her mind.

'He smelled... Manly,' her imagination filled in for her.

Getting home, Nicole raced to her bedroom, flinging her sundress, bra and panties behind her. Leaping onto the bed, she pictured Mister Nick Cummins dressed as an old-time headmaster, carrying a cane and demanding that she bend over his desk to receive her punishment. Holding a pillow over her face, Nicole screamed into it as her flickering fingers elicited an explosive orgasm from her sopping pussy.

Nicole slept briefly and dreamed of a future--a future with an anonymous lover whom she worked and raised kids as an equal with but who was undoubtedly her man in every way that implied. He would be the man, and she would serve him willingly. Until today, that man's face had always been blurred but now resembled a certain gym teacher she'd recently masturbated to images of.

When Nicole's mum, Erica, arrived home, she found her pretty, vivacious, screamingly intelligent daughter singing along to the earbuds in her ears as she finished cooking dinner. 'Billie Eilish, for sure,' Erica thought as she watched her daughter sing, swing, and smile.

Erica worried for her daughter. Eighteen, and never once had Nicole mentioned a boyfriend. Nor had she spoken of talking to a male friend. Erica wondered if her daughter was gay. It wouldn't matter to her or her husband, Ethan if Nicole was. Erica just wanted her daughter to be happy and well-adjusted. She wondered again whether the decision she and Ethan made to hold her back was the right one. 'Not that I can do anything about it, now,' she thought.

After watching her daughter sway and sing for a while, Erica dropped her work bag onto the table with a loud bang, letting Nicole know she was home. At the sudden noise, Nicole spun. Spotting her mother, she smiled and pulled the buds out.

"Evening, Mother," she said. Knowing her mother disliked being called that.

Crossing to hug her daughter, Erica facetiously growled, "I know you're teasing me with that name, Miss. But you're not so big or old that I can't spank you!"

"Sorry, Mother," Nicole teased, knowing her parents had never physically disciplined her and wouldn't begin now.

Mother and daughter giggled and exchanged cheek kisses before Nicole turned back to mashing the potatoes. "Have you heard from Dad?" She asked.

"Yes," Erica answered. "We chatted using our phones' hands-free connection on my way home. He said he was just leaving, so I'd expect him here anytime soon."

Erica moved to get glasses. She placed them and poured wine for herself and her daughter from the cask sitting on the fridge's bottom shelf. Then, hearing her husband's car pulling into the driveway, she brought out a can of beer and cracked it open.

Nicole watched her mother evenly, with an eyebrow raised. Money was tight in this household, and alcohol was a treat they rarely allowed themselves.

Erica smiled and said, "Wait for your father and dinner."

Ethan picked that time to walk in, and he, too, raised an eyebrow when Erica handed him the can.

"What's the occasion?" He cheerfully asked as he took an appreciative swig.

"During dinner," Erica scolded. "You smell," she told her husband. "Go and have a shower. We'll hold dinner for you."

Ethan works for the city council as a labourer. It is a secure job, which is why he took it, but it doesn't pay more than the minimum wage. With his days spent labouring at cutting grass, digging trenches, filling in potholes, or whatever else his team were assigned to meant, unless it rained, Ethan returned home tired, dirty, and smelly most days. If it rained, his team got to sit around the council sheds until either it cleared or five hours passed. After five hours of rain, Ethan's team were sent home, receiving a full day's pay.

Ethan loved those days because it meant he could spend the afternoon with his daughter. Her intelligence and wit enthralled him, and he wished he could give her more. He didn't realise his daughter knew he'd sacrificed everything he and her mother had in savings to send her to an exclusive private high school and how much Nicole loved and appreciated them for doing it. She would make them proud, she vowed. Then, when her career took off, she'd pay them back by buying them their longed-for around-the-world boat cruise. First class, all the way, Nicole swore.

Ethan joined his family at the dinner table only a few short minutes later. He looked at the delicious smelling lasagne his daughter had made and smiled. Yes, money was short, but pork mince was cheap, as were the sheets between the meat layers. He marvelled how, between his wife and daughter, they could eat mince between three and five times a week but never repeat a meal. His girls typically made enough for everyone's lunches the following day.

Erica waited until everyone had plates in front of them, then picking up her glass, she said, "A toast to me." The others looked at her, waiting to see why. Erica didn't disappoint. "I've been made regional manager for South East Queensland," she announced.